


The Daughters of Tony Stark

by IrishGoddess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 1990s to 2018/2019, Basically all of Harry Potter and the MCU timelines with my own spin!, F/M, Harry in 2000 and so on and so forth, Hermione is born in 1999, Just add 20 years to everyone's bdays to get the new year they were born, Ron Weasley Bashing, We starting at the beginning!, but not too bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishGoddess/pseuds/IrishGoddess
Summary: Tony Stark was always a partier. But what if his partying ways gave him two daughters that will change his life in more ways than one. Follow this rewrite of the MCU and Harry Potter series that focuses on the daughters of Tony Stark: Darcy Lewis and Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Bill Weasley/Darcy Lewis, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, this story has been bouncing around in my head for awhile, and I’ve finally started to flesh it out enough to actually write about it. There will be little itty-bitty time skips in each chapter up until chapter 3 or 4. Also, the era of time that the events of Harry Potter take place are 20 years later, mainly to keep in the timeline of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (so Harry was born on July 31, 2000, and his parents died on October 31, 2001, and so-on-and-so-forth). I hope all of you enjoy it!
> 
> If you follow any of my other work, I am still working on them; 2017-2018 was a crazy year of moving twice and starting a new job (which took a lot out of me emotionally to the point that I couldn’t even do things I enjoyed). I will be updating “The Flower that Blooms at Night” after I rewatch the 1st season (I just caught on to season 3, which I’ve been thoroughly enjoying). I have part of chapter 6 done, but I need to remember where I put my notes on the story.

**The Plaza Hotel - Penthouse Suite**

**New York City, New York**

**January 1, 1992**

Tony Stark’s first thought was that everything hurt: his head, his legs, his arm, his mouth, even his eyes hurt. But what hurt most of all? The pain in his heart.

Slowly, his senses woke up, becoming less dazed and confused. Smell was the first sense to hit him as all he could smell were booze, vomit, and sex. The mixture of smells made his stomach roll, as if it remembered the roller coaster it had been on the night before. 

Tony attempted to open his eyes but was greeted by the cool glow of New York sun that shone through the large windows to the left of the bed. He quickly shut his eyes to dull the pain the light caused them. His head started to pound even harder, if that was possible. 

Internally, Tony debated with himself on whether or not he should brave another new day in a world without his parents. Actually, the first new year without his parents, if his memory wasn’t completely shot after all of the drinking from last night. Tony shut his eyes even harder, trying to block out the images of his parents’ caskets that he buried just two weeks ago. He had spent the past two weeks locked in his parents’ East Coast mansion, lost in grief, memories, and regret. The only reason he wasn’t there now was because his best friend, Rhodey, dragged him out to the biggest New Year’s party that New York has ever seen.

Tony didn’t remember much of the party, just that he drank to fill the gaping hole in his heart, and the bitterness that the felt towards his father (and himself) for how things had ended between the two of them.

Tony was snapped out of his depressing spiral by a slight movement on the bed next to him. Slowly, and painfully, Tony opened his right eye. Next to him, he found a naked woman, half-covered in sheets, face down on the bed. He couldn’t see her face, only that she had porcelain skin, and a crazy, curly mess of dark hair. Her figure was voluptuous from what he could see peaking out of the haphazardly thrown sheets across her body.

Apparently, he had a better New Year’s Eve than he thought he did. Deciding that he didn’t want to face the woman from last night, whether it resulted in a talk or sex, Tony quickly heaved himself out of the bed and started locating his clothing. He found his clothing strewn throughout the penthouse, but he luckily found all the items he needed.

Sparing one last glance at the snoozing woman, Tony quickly made his way out of the penthouse, thinking of how he should create a portable assistant that could get him in touch with Rhodey, or anything he needed at that moment. So preoccupied with his thoughts, Tony didn’t even think to check if there was any protection used the night before. A thought that would greatly haunt him twenty years later.

***

**Stark Industries - Obadiah Stane’s Office**

**Los Angeles, California**

**October 5, 1992**

Obadiah sat in at his desk staring at the file in front of him. Seated on the opposite side of his desk was his loyal right-hand man, Drake Peck. 

Obadiah’s inside news source reached them the previous day to inform them of the rumor that Tony Stark might have an illegitimate daughter, which Obadiah quickly stomped down before sending Drake to investigate. Drake returned with a file from the hospital their contact released to them. Drake also obtained over fifty non-disclosure agreements, signed by all of the staff who come in contact with the unnamed little girl that was the possible (albeit illegitimate) heir to one of the biggest companies in the world.

The file said the following, along with a picture of a sleeping baby girl:

* * *

**Name:** [No Official Name] - Baby Doe by the hospital staff

**Gender:** Female

**Hair:** Brown

**Eye Color:** Blue

**Blood Type:** B+

**Date of Birth:** October 4, 1992

**Place of Birth:** Bellevue Hospital Center, New York City

**Mother:** [Retracted]*

**Father: **Anthony Stark [DNA tested]

*Mother did not wished to be named and was referred to as **Jane Doe** during her stay in the hospital.

**Note Left By the Mother:**

Dear Tony,

I know you don’t know me. I barely even know you other than your name and what I’ve seen in the news. We spent a night together at the New Years party and parted ways without a thought of what happened. Unfortunately, we didn’t think to use any protection in our drunken haze and I became pregnant.

I’m writing you this letter to let you know that I can’t handle a child; hell, I don’t even like children. I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out to you during the pregnancy. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was so uncertain about what I wanted. However, time was against me and my decision was made for me.

I’m not trying to force you into anything. The only favor that I ask of you is to look after her. Whether that is raising her yourself, or making sure she is adopted into a good family that will love her no matter what.

Please make sure this little girl has a good life, better than the one I could have offered her.

* * *

The rest of the file was just the results of the DNA test that Drake had the doctor’s perform. The result was positive.

The note wasn’t signed, but Obadiah didn’t care. All that mattered was whether or not the girl was actually 

“How do we know that this is true?” questioned Obadiah.

“You read the test results. Tony Stark is one hundred percent this girl’s father,” replied Drake, not beating around the bush.

Obadiah sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. He really couldn’t be surprised at something like this happening, not with how Tony has been screwing half the West Coast. 

“What are our options?” 

Drake pulled out another file from his briefcase, and set it in front of Obadiah. “The mother said that she was okay with the girl being put up for adoption, as long as the girl is adopted by a good family. This file is of a wealthy couple from Pennsylvania that want to adopt a child. They’ve had issues with conceiving and would rather go the adoption route instead of spending years trying and failing to conceive.”

“Tell me about them,” requested Obadiah, a thoughtful look on his face. Could it really be that simple to get rid of the child?

“Both parents are in the academic world. David Lewis is a tenure professor of the Behavioral Sciences department, top in his field,” Drake lists off, as he glances over his copy of the couple’s files. “His wife, Diane Lewis nee Morgan, is a tenure professor of both the History and English departments; she holds a Phd. in both topics and is a best-selling historical fiction author. They live in Haverford to be close to the university and have the means to live comfortably, even with the extra expenses of a child.”

Obadiah absorbed the information. The Lewises sounded like a dream for any child to be adopted into. They also fit the criteria that the mother laid out in her wishes, and Tony would be none the wiser.

“Contact the agency and tell them that the girl is to be adopted by the Lewises. The adoption will be closed, and non-disclosure agreements are to be signed by the staff. No one is to know that this girl is the heir to Stark Industries. Am I understood?” he demanded, even though he knew that Drake wouldn’t disagree or fight him on this. After all, Drake brought him the Lewises’ file, knowing that this was the route that Obadiah would want to go.

“Yes, sir,” responded Drake. “Shall I dispose of your copy of the files, along with mine?”

“No. Dispose of yours. I’ll keep mine for…insurance.”

***

**New York City Adoption Center**

**New York City, New York**

**November 25, 1992**

Diane and David Lewis sat nervously in the waiting area. They held each others’ hands, as they looked anxiously to the door that led to the back of the adoption agency, where their newly adopted daughter was held.

About a month ago, they had received a call saying that they had been approved for the adoption of a little girl that had been born on October 4th. The little girl’s mother had abandoned her and that the father wasn’t in the position to raise a child. Apparently, according to their social worker (Mrs. Emmers), the mother wanted the father to find the girl a good family, which he saw with them.

After a few weeks of paperwork, home visits, and the baby being tested for any diseases, plus obtaining her shots, the Lewises were finally allowed to bring the little girl, whom they official named Darcy, home. They had just come from the court house, where they signed the last of the paperwork and obtained Darcy’s official birth certificate and social security card. Now, they were just waiting for their social worker to bring their little girl to them.

After what had felt like forever, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Emmers holding a squirming one-month old baby cloaked in lavender clothing. Darcy’s eyes were looking at the new area, before she settled on her new parents. Without a beat, she gave them a gummy smile that melted their hearts even more.

“David. Diane. I would like you to meet your daughter, Darcy Louise Lewis,” announced Mrs. Emmers, before carefully handing Darcy over to Diane, who had stood up as soon as Darcy had entered the room.

“Hi, Darcy,” cooed Diane, softly, as she held Darcy, who looked at the two strangers in interest. “I’m your Momma. And this handsome man is your Papa. We love you so much, little one.”

At hearing her parents declaration of love, Darcy gave them another gummy smile.

Mrs. Emmers watched in the distance, a smile on her face. She knew that this little girl had been placed in the right family for her. Hopefully, they would never know the truth of Darcy’s birth, especially that sweet little girl. However, as she looked at the love that radiated from the two parents, she knew that they could handle anything thrown at them.

***

**Lewis Residence**

**Haverford, Pennsylvania**

**April 1, 1994**

Darcy was almost two years old when odd occurrences started happening around her. At first, Diane and David thought nothing of it, just weird coincidences that happened around Darcy whenever she was upset.

The first time the Lewises really saw that these occurrences weren’t coincidences was when Darcy really wanted a doughnut.

It was a Friday morning, and Diane had run out that morning to grab two dozen doughnuts for a department meeting she had at nine o’clock. She also grabbed two doughnuts (one plain glazed, and the other covered in sprinkles) for David that she was going to leave with his secretary once she arrived at work. A little thank-you for being so hands-on with Darcy and the household chores (without being asked), while she had been scrambling to set up this meeting, grade papers, and teacher lectures. 

Realizing that she had forgotten her notes for the meeting at home, Diane quickly made her wake back. Deciding to give David his treat in person, Diane grabbed the paper bag filled with his doughnuts and rushed into the house through the kitchen door. She found David, dressed in a freshly pressed suit and with his unfastened tie around his neck, trying feeding an energetic Darcy, who was seated in her highchair, the oatmeal she had left out for him to heat up.

“Hi, hon,” she said, dropping the doughnut next to him on the kitchen table and reaching over to kiss his cheek. “I forgot my notes, luckily I wasn’t too far away when I noticed. I got you your favorite.”

“Thanks, Di,” replied David, as he tried and failed to land the spoonful of oatmeal into Darcy’s mouth. She would open her mouth to the train or plane noises but as soon as the spoon was just about in her mouth, she closed her mouth and turned her head to the side to avoid the bland colored mush. The little girl really didn’t like to eat oatmeal, even if he put sugar into it. “I think it is time we retire the oatmeal. She is set in her ways.”

Deciding that he would just give the almost-toddler a bottle in the car along with some baby crackers, David turned to the doughnut bag and pulled out the sprinkle doughnut. He didn’t see the intense, wanting look that Darcy was giving said doughnut. Just as he was about to bite into the sweet treat, it flew out of his hand and into Darcy’s outstretched ones.

All David could do was blink, trying to decide whether or not to believe his own eyes. However, his parental instincts took over when he saw Darcy try to bite into the doughnut, and he quickly took the treat out of her little munchkin hands.

Darcy’s response was to let out a high pitched cry, the likes of which the Lewises had never heard from the baby. 

The cries alerted Diane, who came rushing into the kitchen, clutching her notes to her chest.

“What happened?” cried Diane, who throw down her notes when she saw how distressed Darcy was and picked up the distressed child. “Why did she scream like that?”

“She made my doughnut fly over to her,” muttered David, baffled by his truthful explanation. “I don’t know how, but she made the doughnut fly to her. I took it away before she could bite into it, which caused her to scream like that.”

Diane stared at her husband in disbelief while she gently bounced Darcy in her arms, trying to soothe the babe. However, Darcy just seemed to cry even louder. The lights started to flicker throughout the house.

On a particularly loud cry, the lights blew out, causing lightbulb fragments to fly everywhere. Diane quickly shielded Darcy, with David shielding Diane. However, they didn’t feel any of the glass hit them. Looking up, the couple found a light purple barrier surrounding the three of them, and Darcy staring at the shield. When Darcy blinked, the barrier fell.

David and Diane just stared at their baby in shock. They didn’t say anything but they both thought the same thing: Darcy was indeed a special child.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry that it's been a month, but life has been crazy. I also had a little writer's block on how to execute certain points of this chapter, which didn't help.
> 
> ALSO: Harry Potter and company/ are all 20 years forward. Basically: Harry born in 2000, 1st year in 2011, and so on and so forth. I had to change it to line up the timelines. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Remember: Review, Kudos, and Subscribe!

**Lewis Residence**

**Haverford, Pennsylvania**

**October 31, 1995**

For the past year, the Lewises had dealt with several bouts of Darcy’s “abilities”. The incidents always happened when Darcy wanted something or was upset.

David and Diane become increasingly worried as Darcy got older and more incidents occurred. However, they seemed to be easing off as she got a little older, or at least out of the terrible twos.

Halloween was abound throughout Haverford, and the Lewis family was preparing to take Darcy trick-or-treating. Darcy was dressed up as a black-and-white kitten, her current favorite animal. Diane was dressed as a mama cat, and David was dressed as the Grim Reaper. David was staying home to hand out candy and scare some of the older kids who were okay with a good scare.

“You ready, kitty-cat?” asked Diane as she and Darcy walked hand-in-hand down the steps of their front porch. David had taken up his seat on the porch with the candy bowl.

“Yeah!” yelled Darcy as she started skipping to express her excitement. “I want ALL the candy, Mama!”

Diane laughed. Darcy always had a craving for sugar, but it got especially worse around the holidays.

The mother-daughter duo walked up to their first house, which belonged to Mrs. Turner. Mrs. Turner was their next-door neighbor, and a nosy one at that. She was always gossiping about everyone in the neighborhood, but she got away with it due to the pity people felt for her since her husband died. Mrs. Turner always made Diane feel like she needed to look over her shoulder, especially with Darcy’s unexplained abilities. Lord knows what would happen if Mrs. Turner found out. All Diane knew was that she didn’t want to find out.

“Little Darcy,” proclaimed Mrs. Turner as they approached her porch where Mrs. Turner was set up. She was dressed up as a witch: a long velvet purple and black dress, large witch hat, a broom, and a big cauldron full of candy. “Aren’t you adorable. What are you, my dear?”

“I’m a kitty!” chirped Darcy, before her eyes focused on the cauldron full of candy. “Trick or treat, Mrs. Turner!”

Mrs. Turner smiled at the little girl. “Happy Halloween! Pick your favorite three. And only take three pieces, Little Darcy!”

Darcy’s face scrunched up in concentration before picking her three (a Hershey’s bar, a Twix, and a Reese’s Peanut Buttercup). “Thank you!”

She happily skipped back toward Diane and quickly grabbed her hand. Diane barely had time to fully grip Darcy’s hand before the little girl took off like a rocket. It was going to be a long night.

**2 Hours Later**

The evening went better than Diane expected. None of Darcy’s powers manifested while they were trick-or-treating, and Darcy was enjoying herself immensely. The mother-daughter pair almost made their way back to the house when they heard some shouts a few doors down from where they were walking. As they neared the house, the shouts got louder. When they reached the house, they found the source of the noise. Teenagers vandalizing Mrs. Turner’s mailbox and teepeeing her house. Thankfully, Mrs. Turner was no where to be seen.

Diane pulled Darcy closer. “Let’s just go inside, baby girl.”

“But, Mama,” cried Darcy. “They’re being bad. Stop them!”

“I’m calling the police when I get inside, sweetheart,” murmured Diane, trying not to get the attention of the teenagers.

“No! Do something!” cried Darcy, her voice raising in volume as she became more and more upset. The air surrounding Darcy began to shift. Like sparks were crackling around them.

Diane felt a cold sweat run down her spine. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Darcy tried to pull her arm out of Diane’s grip, but Diane held strong. Intent on getting Darcy inside before it was too late.

“David!” called Diane, not caring if she alerted the teenagers, as long as David heard her.

The teenagers stopped their vandalism to look at Darcy and Diane, not sure what to make out of the family in front of them.

“You’re bad!” Darcy yelled when she noticed the teenagers staring at them. “Leave Mrs. Turner alone.”

The teenagers laugh, making Darcy even angry. Diane calls for David again.

“Bad!” yelled Darcy and she points directly at the closest teenager. As soon as her finger aligned with the boy’s position, it happened.

An invisible force throw the boy off his feet and into his friend behind him.

“Holy shit!”

“What the fuck?!”

“Did you see that?!”

“You guys, okay?”

Everything was in chaos when David exited the house. Teenagers were shouting while Diane was holding an erratic Darcy, who was switching between shouting, crying, and unintelligible mumbles.

“What on Earth…?” asked David as he took in the sight before him.

“Help me get her inside,” cried Diane, pulling Darcy closer to her chest. “Hurry, David!”

David quickly shook off his confusion at his wife’s cries and made his way towards her and Darcy. Diane handed a still upset Darcy into his arms. Once Darcy was secure, David motioned for Diane to go in first before hastily following her inside.

Darcy was still crying, but her emotions and use of powers drained her. Slowly, she nodded off until she was limp in David’s arms.

David looked towards Diane. “What happened out there?”

Diane was quiet for a while, trying to sort through the emotional turmoil she just went through with Darcy. When she calmed down, she looked at David. Her eyes showed fear and heartbrokenness.

“We have to find a way to teach Darcy control. I don’t think her powers are going to go away. They’re only going to get stronger.”

David looked down at Darcy’s tearstained face that rested on his chest and felt his heart breaking.

Breaking at the thought of Darcy never having a normal childhood.

***

**The Haverford School**

**Haverford, Pennsylvania**

**September 7, 1998**

Darcy stared up at the imposing red-brick building. Before last year, the Haverford School had always looked beautiful and elegant. Now it looked all-consuming, as if it was going to swallow her whole.

Darcy’s hands started to tremble as her panic began to rise. She formed her hands into fists as a way to try to stifle the power that was threatening to burst out of her. When Darcy still felt the surge of her powers trying to break free, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Another technique that her parents taught her. Slowly, she felt her powers die down.

Opening her eyes, Darcy now faced the building with a renewed sense of courage. She marched towards the front doors, determined to make the best of her first day. After all, you only went to first grade once.

Darcy’s courage didn’t last very long. Especially since as soon as she stepped into the foyer, she walked right into a group of other first grade girls. Girls she knew from kindergarten. Ones that she mentally called names she should not know for her age.

The girls were called the Three B’s. Bridget. Brittney. Bethany. All three were blondes, sun-kissed, and angelic looking. The total opposite to Darcy’s dark curls, pale, and soft, yet comely, appearance (according to Mrs. Turner and Grammy Lewis). All three girls were mean as sin (a phrase Darcy picked up from Grammy Devereaux, Mama’s mama).

She never felt so small and insecure until she met the Three B’s.

Darcy tried to move away from the three before they noticed her. Unfortunately, today was not her lucky day.

“Darcy! Aren’t you going to say hello? Or do those rednecks you call family not teach you anything when you’re down there?” snarked Bridget, the leader of the group. She was walking toward Darcy with Brittney and Bethany flanking each side of her.

Darcy mentally cursed several words _she_ _should _**_definitely_**_ not know_. Another thing that Grammy Devereaux taught her during her visits to Louisiana.

Darcy plastered a smile on her face. Might as well try to kill them with kindness, especially since it was the southern way, according to both her Mama and Grammy Devereaux.

“I didn’t see you there. I hope you enjoyed your summer,” said Darcy, her tone saturated in fake sweetness.

“It was probably better than yours was in that swamp,” quipped Bridget, a sneer on her face that made her look less angelic. “Too bad a gator didn’t eat you. What a shame.”

Darcy’s forced smile became even more forceful. “I could say the same about you and bees.”

Bridget’s sneer dropped. She hated when people brought up her allergy. It was her biggest fear; her only weakness.

“I’m gonna tell the teacher if you don’t take that back,” she snarled. Brittney and Bethany were nodding along, frowns adorned on their faces.

“I’ll tell her about your swamp and redneck comments,” shot back Darcy, her hands balling into fists as she felt her powers rise up within her. She couldn’t lose control here. In front of _them_. They weren’t _worth_ it.

“She’ll never believe you,” said Bridget smugly, as if she had won. “Everyone knows your a freak.”

Darcy’s control snapped. Her powers came rushing forward and out of every one of her pores, saturating the air with a charged energy. That energy shot straight toward the Three B’s, knocking them off their feet.

All three girls screamed as they flew backwards and hit the wall behind them. Everyone else in the foyer stopped what they were doing and looked toward the noise. They found three girls on the floor and a fourth girl, with a scowl on her face, standing across from them.

The first one to recover was Brittney who yelled out, “What did you do to us, you freak?”

Brittney’s voice reconnected Darcy’s brain to her body. She quickly pulled back her power inside of her and backed away from the now crying Three B’s.

“Ms. Lewis.”

Darcy turned to her left to find a stern looking woman in a navy blue pant-suit. Principal Woodward. Not exactly Darcy’s number one fan, especially after last year (Darcy didn’t mean to set off the fire alarms after Bridget cut off a piece of her hair. It’s not Darcy’s fault they couldn’t prove that she set them off).

Darcy gave a nervous laugh. “H-hi, Principal Woodward.”

Principal Woodward narrowed her eyes as she glared at Darcy. “In my office. Now.”

Well, this was going to be a fun year.

***

**Tony Stark’s Malibu Residence**

**Malibu, California**

**December 25, 1998**

Music was being blasted from all areas of the mansion. Bodies were dancing, and people were drinking.

Tony couldn’t make out the faces of the people around him, but he didn’t care. As long as he wasn’t alone.

He stumbled through the various rooms in his house, a bottle of champagne in his right hand. He was on a mission. A mission to find a woman. Any woman. As long as she helped him feel anything but the emptiness inside of him.

Most of the girls at the party didn’t catch his interest. All were blonde, tanned, and fake.

Tony was about to take another swig of his bottle when he stopped at the doorway to his study (more like Pepper’s study than his). The woman in front of him was a wisp. Her form was slime and lanky, covered in a long sheer, backless, silver dress. Her caramel hair was unbound and flowed around her in lose curls. She reminded Tony of the stories his mother told him when he was a child. Stories of fairies and elves.

“Um,” started Tony, although he had no clue what to say to the woman, but at least he caught her attention. “Who are you? You look like someone I’d remember, but I definitely don’t remember you.”

She smiled at his rambling. “I’m Jean. I presume you are Tony Stark?”

Shit. A British accent. He’d always liked girls with accents.

“Yeah, but just call me Tony. Why are in here and not at the party?” he asked, trying to remain aloof.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she teased, as she fully-turned towards him, showcasing her more modest front. “Shouldn’t the host be at his own party?”

“I asked first. There has to be a reason a beautiful woman like you is all alone.”

She pursed her lips. “My friend, who dragged me here, ditched me for some party boy. Unfortunately, she has the keys to both the car and her apartment with her. I also can’t just abandon her here. That would be rude.”

“I think she lost all rights to be upset when she abandoned you,” remarked Tony, before he took a large gulp of the champagne. “Well, since I’m the host. I’ll entertain you. It’s the least I could do for such a pretty girl.”

“Oh, Tony. I’m no girl,” she flirted as she gave him a smile.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

***

**Stark Industries - Obadiah Stane’s Office**

**Los Angeles, California**

**February 25, 1999**

Jean Alexander sat nervously outside of Obadiah Stave’s office. She knew that she probably looked like a complete wreck, but who wouldn’t be a wreck when they just found out they were pregnant after a one night stand; and that one night stand was none other than Tony Stark.

Jean tried to get into contact with Tony, but his PA wouldn’t put her through to talk to him. So, she resorted to talking to Obadiah Stane. He was the only person that could actually get her through to Tony.

However, that didn’t mean she didn’t have obstacles to go through to get to the point she was currently at. Obadiah requested (demanded) a paternity test, which she complied with. She didn’t hold the request against him since it would be bad (both legally, financially, andif a woman falsely claimed to be pregnant with Tony Stark’s child.

Jean knew the reason she was called in today was because they received the results of the paternity test. She knew that the hard part was over, but it still didn’t take away the fear that was forming in her gut.

What if they wanted her to get rid of her baby?

“Ms. Alexander? Mr. Stane will see you now,” stated Pamela Quinn, Mr. Stane’s PA.

Jean stared at her for a moment, contemplating whether or not to just run for it. Instead her mouth spoke for her before her brain could play catch up.

“Thank you.”

Jean stiffly made her way towards the double doors next to Pamela’s desk. Taking a deep breath, she opens the door to find Mr. Stane sitting behind a sleek, but expensive, desk.

“Come in, Ms. Alexander. There’s a lot we need to discuss,” prompted Mr. Stane, his faceand voice neutral, but it didn’t do anything to quell Jean’s fears.

Jean quickly closed the door and sat down in the seat across from Mr. Stane. Neither spoke for a moment. Mr. Stane just studied Jean, and Jean tried to keep her eyes away from the man’s penetrating stare.

“We received the results of the paternity test. Your baby holds Stark blood,” stated Mr. Stane, a slight hint of defeat and annoyance lace his words. “What I want to know is what you want.”

Jean licked her dry lips. “I just want Tony to know he has a child. Be a part of its life. It’s only-”

“No,” interrupted Mr. Stane, his tone harsh and cold. Jean visibly flinches. “Tony will never be a part of your child’s life.”

Jean’s brain stuttered for a moment. Tony wouldn’t be in her child’s life? Even if he was the father?

“I can offer you a sum of money that will last you and the child for several years,” continued Mr. Stane. “Use it however you want. Go back to school, for instance. Your file says that you were involved in a prestigious dentistry program in London before all this.”

Jean nodded her head at the rhetorical question. She had been in dentistry school before all of this happened, which prompted her to take the semester off.

“I suggest you take the money I am about to offer you and leave. Return to school. Give you and your child a good future. One without Tony Stark and the Stark name.”

Mr. Stane then placed an envelop on the desk and pushed it toward Jean.

Jean picked up the envelop and looked at the piece of paper within it. She found a check with a number she thought she would never see in her life time. Her jaw dropped.

“Either leave here with the check and never speak of your child’s paternity, or leave without it and be in for a world of onslaught slander and legal woes in the likes of which you have ever seen. It’s your choice,” states Mr. Stane, a venomous grin etched onto his face. A grin that told Jean he would make due on his promises.

No, not promises. **Threats**.

***

**Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry**

**London, England**

**May 31, 1999**

Jean hurried across campus as fast as her tiny, but slightly visible baby belly would allow her. Being five months pregnant, walking had become a little bit of a tedious task as of late.

After meeting with Mr. Stane, Jean took a week of thinking before deciding to accept the money. Once she received the check, Jean packed up her life in Los Angeles and returned home to London. After dealing with her parents’ criticisms and voiced disappointments, Jean decided to go back to school, using the money she received from Mr. Stane.

Jean decided to continue her pursuit of dentistry and re-enrolled at Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry. However, getting back into the school wasn’t easy, especially since she missed most of the semester dealing with Mr. Stane and coming to terms with her pregnancy.

Jean had a natural knack for dental care, and was scoring at the top of her class. However her bump was making getting from class to class a little difficult.

Jean tried everything to get to class early, short of running. However, she always ended up late by five minutes. And today was no different.

“Excuse me!” exclaimed Jean, as she scurries between students walking at a leisurely pace. People, however, didn’t hear her cries and still ended up bumping into her as she tried to get around them.

“Watch where your going, love!” yelled a male voice that Jean nearly toppled them over after a group of girls accidentally ran into her without looking.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she tries to right herself.

“Are you okay?” asked the man, as he helped her regain her balance.

Jean, once she regained her balance, looked up into the most electric grey eyes. The man before her was well-put together in dark blue colors that helped bring out his eyes and pale skin. His sandy-blonde hair was slightly swept back, only adding more to his put-together appearance.

“Y-yes. I’m fine. I should be asking if you’re okay. I’m sorry that I knocked into you.”

“It’s okay. My name’s Henry. Henry Granger. And you are?”

“Jean. Jean Alexander.”

Bells started ringing, alerting the two to the time. 12 pm.

“Oh! I’m late! Again, I’m so sorry,” said Jean as she started towards the direction she was heading.

“Hey!” called Henry after a moment. Jean turns around, giving him a questioning look. “Do you want to meet up for coffee at the Bean Cafe at 2?”

Jean was stunned for a moment. Couldn’t he tell she was pregnant?

Henry just kept on smiling at her; a smile that seemed to light up his face. A smile that Jean felt she couldn’t say no to.

Jean smiled back. “Sure."

***

**St. Bartholomew’s Hospital**

**London, England**

**September 19, 1999**

“Gah!” screamed Jean as she pushed through her contractions. She could vaguely hear the doctor telling her that she was doing great, but that didn’t mean anything to her. All she cared about was getting this baby out of her.

Having been in labor since the night before, Jean was tired and ready to hold her baby in her arms.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” cooed Henry, whose hand she had locked in death grip. He didn’t show any signs of her grip causing him pain, but she thought it shouldn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t trying to push a baby through an opening that was one fourth its size.

“Alright, Miss Alexander, the next contraction is going to be a big one,” stated the doctor, who was looking at the monitor hooked up next to Jean. “I’m going to need you to push even harder.”

“Ugh,” moaned Jean, feeling more and more tired. “How much longer do I have?”

The doctor, a woman only a few years older than Jean herself, gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re labor is going slower than we anticipated, given how your water broke a few hours ago. If the baby doesn’t crown soon, we will have to go with a cesarean birth.”

Jean felt a spike of panic race through her. She didn’t prepared for a cesarean. She didn’t think she would need one with how smoothly her pregnancy had gone.

However, the panic didn’t last long as another contraction started. And just like the doctor said, it was a big one.

“Argh!!” screamed Jean, as she pushed with all her might.

“Good, Jean! Good!” encouraged the doctor. “Keep pushing; I think the head is starting to crown.”

Hearing that the baby was crowning gave Jean a surge of energy that she didn’t know was left in her. She pushed harder and harder as the doctor told her that the baby’s head was out, then the shoulders, and finally the baby’s feet. All the while, Henry was holding her hand, wiping her sweat, and whispering encouraging words. As soon as the baby's feet were out, a loud piercing cry resounded throughout the room.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” announced the doctor, who held up the crying girl to the exhausted mother.

“My baby’s a girl?” asked Jean, a smile lighting up her red and tired face. She reached forward to hold her baby, grimacing slightly from the pain left over from the labor.

The doctor smiled and gently handed over the squirming, crying bundle. She then went about cleaning up Jean, while trying to give the couple some privacy.

The baby girl quieted down as she settled into her mother’s arms. Her little hands making grabbing motions, above her face. Jean took one of the little hands and gave the baby her thumb to hold onto. Her other hand, the one supporting the baby, rubbed the baby’s left arm. Meanwhile, Henry moved to sit next to Jean on the bed and wrap his arm around her, while looking at the little bundle in wonder.

“So, do we have a name?” He asked, softly.

Jean contemplated for a moment before answering. “Hermione. Her name is Hermione.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose. “Hermione? You never mentioned that name before.”

Jean shrugged. “I came across it during my mythology obsession towards the end of the pregnancy. She was the daughter of Helen of Troy and her first husband.”

Henry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Didn’t Shakespeare also name one of his characters Hermione?”

“Ugh. Don’t talk about Shakespeare,” groans Jean She threw her head back in both annoyance and to relieve some pressure on her neck that built up from the strain of labor.

“So, Hermione it is then?” questioned Henry, wanting to double-check before telling the nurse. He did not need an angry girlfriend coming after him if he gave them the wrong name. Even if she was the one to tell him the name.

Jean looked down at the little bundle in her arms. She memorized the soft curve of her baby’s cheek, the scrunched up nose, and little mouth that opened to yawn.

“A million times over.”

***

**Roslyn Chapel**

**London, England**

**May 31, 2003**

“It’s time,” announced Michael Alexander as he entered the chapel’s bridal suite. Michael, a tall and proud looking man, wore a traditional three-piece suit with a silvery-white tie that matched his growing grey hair and beard. The site he saw in front of him took his breath away.

Jean stood in the middle of the room wearing a simple, off-white, lace gown and her hair in a simple chignon. Her mother, Charlotte, fluttering about her to make sure everything was in place. Hermione, wearing a white flower girl dress with a light blue sash, was seated on a chair, counting the white rose petals in her basket. No doubt making sure she had the exact number needed for her duties. Surprisingly enough, the little girl’s unruly curls were neatly contained underneath a tiny flower crown made of daisies. None of the women noticed Michael’s presence.

Michael cleared his throat, catching their attention. “It’s time.”

Charlotte started to tear up at the announcement, but quickly composed her self. She kissed Jean on both cheeks, before picking up Hermione.

“I can walk!” proclaimed Hermione as she fidgeted in her grandmother’s hold. All three adults chuckled at the serious three (and three quarters as she vehemently tells everyone) year old.

The little girl squirmed until her grandmother relented and let her down. Hermione let out a little huff and smoothed out some wrinkles on her dress skirt. Once she deemed herself to be in a satisfactory appearance, Hermione lead the way out of the bridal suite and in front of double doors leading into the inner sanctum, where Henry waited.

“Ah! Our blushing bride and beautiful flower girl!” exclaimed Eleanor Holmes, Charlotte’s younger sister and Jean’s favorite aunt. As soon as Jean and Henry announced their engagement, Eleanor took over the planning with Jean and Henry only needing to worry about the decisions, as Eleanor covered all of the order placements.

“Where’s Peter?” questioned Charlotte, looking around for her and Eleanor’s brother. “He’s suppose to escort me down the aisle. He better not be late.”

“I’m here. I’m here,” announced a posh voice coming from the chapel’s entrance. In strode a middle-age man around Michael’s age, only tanner and without the greying beard. Despite being middle-aged, Peter held a mischievous, almost child-like, disposition that made him appear years younger, despite his slowly aging looks.

“I would ask where you’ve been, but we don’t have time for me to rack you over the coals. Just give me your arm and walk in step with me,” sassed Charlotte, whose tone left no room for argument.

Peter, knowing when to just go with Charlotte’s orders, quickly takes her arm and falls in line for the wedding march.

Eleanor, pleased that everyone was there, checks that the order is right before walking towards the inner sanctum doors.

“Smiles everyone,” she says before slipping through the door. A moment later the doors open and the music starts, echoing throughout the chapel.

The inner sanctum is bright with the midday sun shining through the large windows that line the walls. The natural light showcases the beautiful carvings in the archways and pillars that outline the room. Eleanor decorated the pillars with white roses, ivy, and sweet peas, which match Jean’s bouquet.

At the end of the aisle, under the large stain glass window, Henry stands alone. He and Jean decided early on that the only person they wanted up their with them was Hermione; the third, and most important, piece of their soon-to-be family.

Peter and Charlotte walk first, smiling brightly at the guests in attendance. Peter almost misses a step, but Charlotte subtly elbows him in the ribs.

As the siblings reached the halfway mark down the aisle, Hermione started her way down. A few of the guests chuckled at the serious face she was making as she delicately tossed the rose petals on the ground. When she reached the end of the aisle, she looked around, not sure where to go.

Henry quickly motioned for her to come towards him. Hermione ran to him and motioned for him to pick her up.

Once she was face to face with Henry, Hermione whispered, “Mommy looks really pretty!”

Henry chuckled, “She’s always pretty, little one.”

“But, daddy, she’s _really _pretty,” exclaimed Hermione, louder than intended, which caused the guests to chuckle at the little girl.

The organ began to play the wedding march, signaling everyone to stand up and look towards the door.

In the entrance stood Jean and her father. The sight of Jean took Henry’s breath away, which Hermione noticed.

“I told you she looked really pretty,” sang Hermione with a smirk on her face.

Henry just tickled her sides in response. He only stopped when Jean was at the end of the aisle and in front of him, smiling at the two. Henry and Hermione smile back at Jean.

“Ready to get married?”

“Always.”

Henry, still holding a joyful Hermione, held out his left hand for Jean, whose right hand joined his. Gripping each others’ hand, the two turn toward the priest, who begins the ceremony.

And so begins the journey of the Grangers.

***

**Lewis Residence**

**Haverford, Pennsylvania**

**August 18, 2003**

The Lewis household was quiet and serene for once. There hadn’t been an incident in the past several weeks, and it provided such relief. Darcy’s anxiety winded down and she was finally able to relax for a part of her summer.

However, even though the incidents ceased, Diane and David were still worried about Darcy and the upcoming school year. School had become an anxiety-inducing environment for Darcy. When her classmates weren’t picking on her, they were whispering behind her back (not very subtly) about how weird events happen around Darcy. The Haverford School did everything it could in its power, but the punishments towards Darcy’s bullies only seemed to alienate her even more. Although that had more to say on the students’ parents than the school’s actions.

Diane and David didn’t know what to do. Doctors didn’t believe in the abilities that Darcy exhibited, especially since they never occurred when she was being tested. The doctors suggested anxiety medication for Darcy, but the Lewises felt it was too aggressive of a treatment for a child. While they were still researching options, they decided to try and keep Darcy’s anxiety to a minimum at home, and keep in contact with the school about what is happening to Darcy in the classroom.

Despite their worries, Diane and David decided to try and make the next few weeks of summer relaxing with Darcy.

Currently, all three of them were sitting around the living room all reading books while the window was open to let in the summer breeze. The only sounds that were heard were the turning of pages and the wind chimes dangling from the porch. None of the Lewises noticed the sound of a faint pop outside of the door.

All three were snapped out of their reading trance by the ringing of the doorbell. The three exchanged confused looks, as they had no plans for people to come over. Diane got up to answer the door, as she was closest to the door. What she found on the other side of the door baffled her.

On the threshold of the house stood a dark-skinned woman wearing bright colored clothing that you wouldn’t normally see on a person. She wore long, chiffon, red dress that dragged on the floor with matching colored glasses. A yellow and orange kimono, which resembled a sunrise, covered her shoulders and arms. Hanging from her neck was a necklace of turquoisethat matched her earring and multiple beaded bracelets on both arms. The woman’s dark black hair was pulled up into a bun that was held with turquoise pins and red clips. The only make-up she wore was a bright red lipstick that matched the color of her dress.

“I believe this is the Lewis residence, is it not?” questioned the woman, although the look in her eye said she knew she was right.

“Yes,” answered Diane slowly. “How may I help you?”

The woman adjusted her glasses as she looked around the inside of the house before settling her eyes on Diane. “My name is Maya Bellecrest. I am here to talk to you about your daughter, Darcy.”

Darcy perked up at her name, and tried to subtly look at the Maya from her position in the arm chair. Meanwhile, David got up and joined Diane at the front door.

“What about Darcy?” he asked, his voice laced with wariness.

“I’m here to talk to you about Darcy’s incidents and give you some answer,” responded Maya. “Might I come in? I’d rather not have this conversation on your front porch.”

Diane and David shared a look, trying to decide whether or not to let the strange woman in or not.

“Either way, you will have to speak to me. I just believe you would rather keep this conversation within the privacy of your own home. Your next-door neighbor seems to be the nosy type,” stated Maya, who motioned her head towards the house to the left of them.

The Lewises turned to find their neighbor, Mrs. Turner, blatantly staring at them from her front porch while attempting to water flowers. All she seemed to be watering her shoes. She quickly tried to seem busy as soon as she saw the Lewises giving her annoyed looks.

Diane was the first to look back at Maya, who stood on the threshold with a patient look on her face. Something told Diane that she was used to these type of situations.

“Well, given the circumstances, please come in,” said Diane as she moved herself and a reluctant David away from the doorway to let Maya in.

“Thank you.” Maya shot her a brilliantly white smile as she elegantly glided into the house. Her immediate focus was on Darcy, who was peering over at Maya from her spot on the couch. “And you must be Darcy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Darcy just stared at Maya, not sure of what to make of the woman before her. What could she possibly want with _her_?

As Darcy and Maya stared at each other, Diane asked, “Why don’t you come and sit? I’m curious about what you need to discuss about Darcy.”

Maya gracefully strode towards one of the armchairs, while Diane and David situated themselves onthe couch, each one on the other side of Darcy. Once everyone was seated, all eyes focused on Maya, who looked thoughtful as she took in the Lewis family unit.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Maya leaned forward, “I’ve come here today to discuss Darcy. More importantly, the incidents that happen around her.”

All of the Lewises tensed. All that was running through their minds was that they had been so careful to take precautions.

“These incidents that Darcy has been having over the years are normal. At least, for the special kind of child that Darcy is,” continued Maya, keeping her voice steady and calm.

“What do you mean by “special kind of child”?” asked David, his voice laced with a sharpness that made it sound like a threat. As if whatever Maya was going to say would set him off.

Maya studied David for a moment, taking in the protective stance that he had taken as soon as she started talking. Diane just looked worried, while Darcy was curious but withdrawn into herself as her father’s hackles started to rise. It seems she has to not beat around the bush.

“What I mean is: Darcy is a witch.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos and a comment!!


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